


he's not a spark, he's the whole damn flame

by dames_for_jamesbarnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Steve Rogers, Dancer Natasha Romanov, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dames_for_jamesbarnes/pseuds/dames_for_jamesbarnes
Summary: prompt fill on setrashtian.tumblr.com"prompt: "I thought you and Tony were still gazing into each other's eyes" + stevetony? :)"





	he's not a spark, he's the whole damn flame

"i thought you and tony were still gazing into each other's eyes." 

“what?” steve asks the voice, feeling the pencil slide across the paper with purpose, inspiration stepping before every stroke. her voice is the first he’s heard in hours, the arts department buildings pretty empty this time of day, except for the people leaving classes in the studios.

“well, the last time i saw you, you were drooling pretty heavily over tony stark in those skinny jeans, and… well, you know the rest,” nat teases, and unfortunately, steve’s pen has to come to a halt before the heat in his cheeks distracts from his homework. “figured you were stuck there.”

letting out a sigh, he looks up at her with eyes that beg her not to continue. “no, i don’t know the rest,” steve says firmly, and his instrument presses against the paper again. he summons to mind the image he was trying to recreate, but before he can even make another line he’s glancing up again into nat’s eyes. bright, green, and all-knowing, perfectly complimenting the smirk on her face.

if he wasn’t so annoyed, he’d love to put that image onto paper. of course, nat herself is a work of art. he’s seen her performances after all, bucky lifting her into the air, easy even with one arm, the crowd erupting into cheers. she’s beautiful and smart and funny and she knows what’s going on, even when people like steve don’t.

again. annoying.

“well, let’s just say however much you were ogling him, he was equally ogling you,” she says, and reaches for the pencil, snatching it from his fingers. they’ve gone slack.

“what? no, he wasn’t.” his voice is a little strangled as he says it, which gets a laugh as she tucks the pencil behind her ear. taking away his only sanctuary from this attack. “nat, c’mon, i’ve got to finish this piece for next week.”

that gets a laugh out of her, too, though this one is almost… kinder. she reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “next week is next week, rogers,” natasha tells him, straightening up to her full height before turning toward the door. her duffle easily fits on her shoulder, and he watches her strut away, his charcoal leaving with her. “but y’know, tony’s coming to my place tonight.”

“wait, tonight?” he asks, and his sketchbook is shoved away in his backpack so he can stand and follow her out, gripping onto both straps. “what for?”

the cool hits ‘em. it’s springtime, the flowers blooming, the rain passing through washing away any chance at heat, and the sun on their skin is a setting one.

“i’m having a party. after all, graduation is in a few weeks, and by that time finals will have rotted our brains enough that even thinking about having a good time would be out of the question.” she shrugs a bit, and something flashes across her face, something sad, wistful. “and y’know, we’re all spreading out. clint’s going up north for a training thing. sam’s going down to d.c., bruce is going west coast for grad school. bucky’s… staying in new york.” she catches on the last one, and steve grimaces a little. he was there when that fight happened. it wasn’t pretty – nat trying her damnedest to pull bucky with her, bucky fighting to anchor them both here. but before he can comfort her, she’s marching on, her shoulder hitching up the duffle that had started to fall.

“anyway. we’re all going places. spreading our wings. just thought it’d be a good thing to have one last hurrah.”

“and i’m just hearing about it now?” steve says with a raised brow, which earns him a solid punch on the arm.

“yeah, because i’m not letting you weasel your way out of it. especially since when you’re there you’re going to ask tony stark out on an actual date.”

that’s enough to make steve stop in his tracks, but natasha keeps walking, not even turning around so he can see the smirk he knows she’s wearing.

“that is not happening.” he says it firmly enough that she turns around with a raised brow, staring at him block the sidewalk. “what? it’s not. tony doesn’t like me like that.”

that gets the brow pushing higher on her forehead. “you’re joking, right?”

“no, i’m not.” his voice is low, and he looks down to kick at a pebble on the sidewalk, a little bit of his frustration coming through. “if he did he would’ve asked me out already. or said something, or done something, or… y’know. something like he did with ty. or christine. or –”

“or who? justin hammer?” nat’s voice is incredulous, and she walks toward steve to push up his chin. “steve, you’re not any of those people. which is why tony hasn’t asked you out.”

“oh, yeah, that supposed to make me feel better?” it’s a little angry now, and he kicks another rock, hard enough to be gone in the grass. “i’ll see you around, nat, okay?” he huffs, shaking his head, and he’s about to turn around before he feels her fingers on his elbow. gentle. barely there.

“steve… you don’t want to be those people.”

when he turns to look at her, her lower lip is bitten, and she’s not looking at him, as if there’s something she wants to say but can’t. or won’t. “what do you mean?” he prods, and she sighs before tucking her arm in his, pulling him along toward the library.

“tony’s… been hurt a lot,” she relents, and she won’t look at him while she talks, her voice soft so no one passing overhears. “you know relationships here. they spark and then fizzle out, and it ends up being shit for both parties. with tony? it’s not just a spark. it’s never just a spark.”

and steve can see it. because tony isn’t just a spark, tony’s fire. he’s passion and verve and there’s nothing calm about him. hell, when steve first met him he could hardly handle it. they snapped and they argued, steve’s stubbornness clashing with tony’s reckless words and behaviors and smiles. the fire wasn’t a flame, it was wild.

but then they got to know each other, and… well. steve saw more than just something raging that couldn’t be contained. steve saw the gentle campfire, barely burning but just as hot, lulling you to sleep with its warmth. like when tony and bruce first became friends. the way he poked and prodded but never pushed bruce further than he wanted to be, always pulled back, always touched and hugged but never squeezed too tight. he saw the torch, the one held out so others could see. the best in his field, top of the class, always teaching. bucky and tony were never best of friends, but he was always willing to explain something because bucky liked that stuff, and tony liked talking about it. and he never got annoyed talking to people like steve about it either, when he saw huge formulas and couldn’t help but ask what it was. he smiled like it meant something to him that he would even bother to ask in the first place.

“those people wanted something from tony, steve. they wanted his body, or his publicity, or his mind,” she continues. “and tony got blindsided. justin moved on, and fast, and christine posted an instagram photo and never looked back. hell, ty stole tony’s work on that final project, steve. that’s the reason he had to start from scratch last week. because ty wouldn’t admit to it and never got punished.”

they stop again, steve grinding to a halt like he’d been punched in the face.

“what?”

all he got in response were those green eyes. sad ones, that seemed to punch him again. a quick one-two that made his mouth fall open a little.

“you’re not like those people, steve,” she says. just as gentle as her fingers. “you’re sweet, and kind, and generous. and tony doesn’t know what to do with you. with that kind of love.”

there’s a silence, and they walk in it for a while, his wheels turning. when he does speak, it’s hesitant.

“how did you know that i –”

“loved him? rogers, i watched you carry him up ten flights of stairs after his birthday party freshman year because the elevators were busted and he was too tired to stand up straight. you hand-iced the birthday cake he got with the schematics he turned in for his final last year. hell, i don’t think he’s ever paid for a cup of coffee when he’s with you, and that boy drinks a lot of coffee.”

that gets another blush while he rubs his neck, and she laughs, hell, giggles before they stop in front of the library doors.

turning to him, she lifts up a hand to squeeze his shoulder again. “come to my place tonight. 10:00. there’ll be a sizeable amount of booze, a lot of sugar and snacks, and a good time with all of your friends. and when you see tony, just. tell him how you feel.”

“it’s not that easy, nat,” he suddenly manages, and he can feel every anxious thought he’s ever had about tony cloud his brain. “what if he doesn’t feel that way? what if i’m not what he wants? i’m not pretty like christine or smart like hammer or… smooth like ty, i’m just me. i can barely talk around him sometimes.”

“steve.” he stops when he hears her, and when he manages to look at her again, she’s still smiling. raising her brow like he’s just made her point for her. “that’s okay. trust me. it’s coming from you. that’s all he wants.”

he’s frozen, but manages a nod, swallowing tightly. “i just… i don’t want to mess it up, y’know?”

“i know. but you won’t.”

after a moment, he nods again. her confidence seems to work to lift his shoulders, his chin. he stands up straight before glancing over, and she’s grinning from ear to ear, offering the charcoal pencil back. 

steve takes it in his fingers, twirling it a bit, looking at it from end to end. his sketchbook weighs heavy in his backpack, one page holding tony’s image in charcoal pencil, painstakingly crafted one evening they spent together. homework, they’d said, tony’s hands flying over his laptop and steve’s fingers blending shadows into tony’s hair. because steve hadn’t had homework, had just been wanting and willing to keep tony company, and it’d been peaceful, the two of them. they’d shared two pizzas over the hours they’d spent in tony’s living room, eventually giving up on work (or pleasure, in steve’s case) completely to watch dumb youtube videos on tony’s television.

it was perfect. in that way time with tony always was. in that way steve knew the genius himself always would be. perfectly tony. snarky and brilliant and bright. with all the stubbornness and sarcasm that steve could want. kind and generous and real.

“i’m gonna treat him right, nat,” he finally tells her, as the wind blew by them, bushes rustling, the sun almost completely gone behind a cloud that’d come in with the breeze. “i’m gonna give him the world.”

“i know,” she says, taking his arm again, walking into the building together to go stir clint from a deep sleep. “i expect nothing less.”


End file.
